


Chivalry

by winterwaters



Series: Bound [2]
Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Future, Awkwardness, Bathroom Breaks, Drabble, F/M, Fluff, Handcuffs, I just couldn't resist, Missing Scene, Prompt Fic, because Bellamy would curse a lot, cursing, especially here, silliness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-01
Updated: 2015-04-01
Packaged: 2018-03-20 19:41:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,959
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3662565
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/winterwaters/pseuds/winterwaters
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bathroom breaks and handcuffs really don’t go together, but like everything else, Bellamy and Clarke figure it out somehow.</p><p>Bonus/missing scene from By Your Side.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Chivalry

**Author's Note:**

> Oh god, this was entirely too much fun. Thank you to those of you who noticed the missing detail in By Your Side, because I got the chance to write this goofy thing ;D (also, this is nearly 2k about them trying to pee while handcuffed. I’m so far down the rabbit hole it’s unbelievable.)

“Did your mom just give us protection?”

The joke slips out unthinkingly in the med bay, an easy thing the old Bellamy might have said once. It surprises him, almost relieves him, that he's still capable of doing so. And though he’s grinning without even realizing it, he waits for Clarke to scold him, shush him, or worse, clam up.

Instead, she laughs. Hard. 

Cheeks flushed, eyes sparkling, doubled over. Her mouth is curled in a smile brighter than a sunbeam. It’s a gorgeous sight. Forget the grass and trees and rivers - Earth has nothing on Clarke Griffin, he thinks.

Right then and there, Bellamy stops pretending he’s not in love with her. 

It’s a while before he can get the image of Clarke laughing out of his head. The beautiful sound, though, that stays with him, embedded deep in his heart to the point he thinks even his heartbeat has reshuffled to the tune of it.

And yeah, they’re fucking shackled together because Raven is an absolute weasel - an annoyingly _astute_ weasel, a traitorous part of his mind is quick to point out - and his wrist aches like hell and everyone’s almost definitely talking about them everywhere they go, but honestly, he’s starting to think there could be worse things than having Clarke attached to his side.

Until she bites her lip, eyes darting everywhere but him, and says in a tiny voice so unlike her own, “I have to pee.”

 _Motherfucker._

He has half a mind to put Raven at gunpoint and demand that Wick find an immediate solution, but Clarke looks upset enough as it is at the moment and a gun likely isn’t going to help, so he decides _fuck it,_ let’s just get it over with. Also, he may or may not have been ignoring his own bladder for a long time in the hopes that it wouldn’t come to this.

And because he desperately wants to see a hint of that lovely smile from earlier, he nudges her gently and cracks another joke. “It’s about time, princess. I was thinking you’d make me wait all day.”

She does glance up then, a strangled sort of giggle leaving her mouth, and her eyes shine gratefully because of course she knows what he’s doing, that he’s trying to make her feel better. She’s always been able to see right through him. 

Thankfully, that’s one thing that hasn’t changed in the time she was gone.

In mutual silence, they make their way over to the river just a little outside of camp, the one on the other side that requires a little more effort to get to, because it’ll be worth it if they can have privacy for this one goddamned thing. By the time they reach the water they’re both slicked with sweat and Bellamy wants his jacket off but god only knows what kind of maneuvering that’s going to take, so he just rolls the cuffs to his elbows and wipes at his face for the third time.

They stand at the edge for a minute longer until he finally says, “You, um, you can go first. Because it’ll probably take you… I mean you have… You go first,” he ends weakly.

Clarke nods and begins toeing off her boots and socks, and he stares at her bare feet like a moron because he can’t remember when he ever saw her barefoot - did he ever? - but she’s got these adorable little toes and the faintest hint of color on her nails that must have been leftover from the Ark, and jesus, that’s bizarre, now all he can think about is Clarke in bed on the ship painting her toenails. 

_Oh, this is bad, so so so bad--_

“Bellamy?” Clarke’s tentative voice makes his head snap up, and he feels color rush into his cheeks at the sight of her wide, curious eyes.

“Yeah?” He asks dumbly. _Get a grip, man._

“Um, can you just… close your eyes? While I…” She gestures to her lower half and _Jesus Christ, duh, of course you moron, she’s going to have to undress help help help--_

“Sure. Yeah, of course.” Somehow his voice comes out steady, and he squeezes his eyes shut tight, trying not to listen to the rustle of leaves underfoot that tells him she’s hopping on one leg and in the process of removing her pants, because her bared long legs are the last thing he needs to be thinking about right now.

Then she squeaks and falls against him, her fingers curling into a death grip on his jacket as she tries to stay upright. His eyes open for half a second, intently studying the tree branches above and trying not to focus on her hair tickling his chin, until he’s sure she won’t tip them both over. 

“Sorry, sorry,” she says, and even with her face pressed into his shirt her voice comes out high-pitched.

Eyes shut tight once more, his free hand slides from her hip - it was automatic, alright - to her shoulder. “It’s fine. You can, uh, hold on if you need to. Until, you know.”

“Th-thanks.” She shuffles again, and when a low curse reaches his ears he smiles, feeling her hand dig into his arm while she kicks off the remainder of the clothing. “You, um… your shoes?” She asks. It takes Bellamy a second to realize what she means - he’ll have to follow her into the water, at least a ways.

He mumbles some incoherent agreement, and now it’s his hand braced on her shoulder as he tries to toe off his shoes just as quickly. When he’s done, Clarke takes a shaky breath and he gulps. “Okay,” she says, then repeats it, more briskly. “Okay. I’ll, um, I’ll lead you in. Just-”

“Eyes closed,” he promises.

The fingers of their cuffed hands wrap together without thought. Clarke pulls him forward with slow, careful steps. The rushing water feels cool over his toes, and he scrunches them in the dirt to keep his balance. He lets her decide how far to go, halting when she does. 

“Bellamy, will you… can you um, just talk, or something?” She asks after a second.

Gulping, he nods. It takes him a few tries to clear his throat before any sound comes out. “The, uh, the training’s going really well. Some of the kids can’t shoot arrows for shit, but it’s fine, I’m a crap shot too, so I think it makes them feel better. They love the spears though, you’d think a few of them were born Grounders,” he rambles. There’s a slight tug on the cuffs, which he takes to mean she’s crouching, and okay he does _not_ need that visual so he just rushes on. “You should see Luca and Carey flailing around, I think they’re trying to impress Dana honestly, the way they go at it like two rams locking horns, but it’s still pretty entertaining, I even saw Kane stop at one point to watch…”

Another tug on his hand, and the pressure releases as Clarke stands. “Thank you,” she murmurs, and he kind of wonders how he can tell she’s blushing even though his eyes are closed, but hell, he’s probably red too so whatever.

“Sure, no problem,” he replies. “So, should we-” He motions blindly to where he thinks the grass is, but Clarke doesn’t move.

“Don’t you need to…?” She trails off, and he realizes, fuck, _it’s my turn._

“Uh, right.” Bellamy scratches his head nervously. He kind of needs to open his eyes to do this, which is problematic because there’s a half-naked Clarke standing less than a foot away, and he’s pretty sure he doesn’t need his boner to get worse than it already is-- 

Clarke giggles. _Oh god, can she tell?_

“Sorry,” she sniggers again. “This is just so unbelievable. If anyone had told me three months ago that I would be knee-deep in a river, half-clothed and freaking _handcuffed_ to Bellamy Blake, I probably would have clobbered them over the head. And yet, here I am.”

Bellamy chuckles ruefully with her, rubbing a hand over his face. “Believe me, princess, I’m just as astounded as you are.” After the tiniest pause, he asks, “Where were you three months ago, anyways?” 

Though he tries to keep his voice casual, it’s hard not to let a trace of his unrest show. He doesn’t know why he bothers trying to contain it, seeing as Clarke reads him like a damn book no matter what. Her response isn’t immediate.

“I was… recovering,” she finally says, and his eyes nearly snap open on the spot. But they don’t, because he’s going to be a fucking gentleman about this if it kills him. She squeezes his hand reassuringly. “My arm got caught in this crazy animal trap during a storm - don’t ask, long story. Anyways, a local tribe found me, took me to their healer.”

“Jesus.” Bellamy breathes through his nose, trying not to panic even as he wonders what other scars she’s hiding under her clothes.

“I’m fine, Bellamy,” Clarke says gently. “I just needed to learn to accept some help now and then.”

The way she says it, it doesn’t sound like she’s just talking about her arm anymore. He doesn’t reply, only grasps her fingers back for a few seconds longer. Then he returns to the problem at hand. 

“Alright,” he says. “Why don’t we get out of the water, you can get redressed, then we’ll head back in real quick and it’s your turn to protect my modesty.”

“Fair enough,” she agrees with a snort, and tugs him along. Her hand clutches his while she uses her free hand to somehow yank her pants back on - _nope, so not going there, do not even… it’s hot as hell, hope the meat doesn’t go bad again, maybe we need to talk storage_ \- Finally, blessedly, she declares, “Okay, you can open your eyes now.”

He blinks against the sunlight for a few moments until he can see properly again. Clarke’s cheeks are as pink as her lips, which are at the moment curved in a small smile that lingers even as they wade back into the stream. God help him, he wants to see if every part of her turns that color. Obediently, she shuts her eyes when they stop, and for a long minute Bellamy wonders what would happen if he just kissed her, right here and now.

Then her forehead scrunches, and he realizes she’s thinking. “You okay?” She questions, and _right, right, he’s supposed to be emptying his bladder, not staring at her_ so he hurries to awkwardly turn in the opposite direction.

“Yeah, yeah, just fine. Can you, um, talk?”

She begins immediately, like she was just waiting for him to ask, and though he’s kind of listening as she tells him about all the new medicines the village healer introduced her to, it’s mostly just the sound of her voice that he basks in, the fact that it’s _Clarke_ and she’s here, next to him again, _finally._

He finishes his business with no small amount of relief, bumping her shoulder to let her know he’s done. They make their way back to the grass, wiping their feet off as best they can and jumping back into their shoes.

Clarke looks up at him, eyebrow arched in one of his favorite bossy expressions. “Not a word.”

“Don’t worry, princess,” he replies dryly, “it’s our little secret.”

She snorts and rolls her eyes. But as they begin heading back to camp, her quiet murmur reaches his ears. “What do you know,” she muses. “Chivalry’s not dead after all.”

The words make Bellamy grin like a goddamn fool for hours to come.


End file.
